Double, Double, Toil and Trouble
by eemmaatt33
Summary: Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble. Double, double, toil and trouble; something wicked this way comes! A few snippets into the relationship of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Remus/Sirius Sirius/Remus
1. Eye of Newt and Toe of Frog: Remus

**Author's Note**: I do not own _Harry Potter_, all rights reserved to J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing. This is a not for profit, fan told story written in conjunction with the Big/Lil' Sis Competition. Song lyrics from William Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ composed by John Williams.

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* * *

**Eye of Newt and Toe of Frog: Remus**

There was blood on his hands. The red substance sticky and warm to the touch. Remus sat alone in the forest, naked and shivering. Last night he had transformed. He remembered the pain, his bones cracking, skin stretching, body contorting. This was normal to him. What was unusual about this situation, was the fact that he wasn't in the Shrieking Shack.

He couldn't remember anything from last night. A blank gap in his memory. Where did the blood come from? Slowly standing and stretching, he checked his body for injuries. A few scratches but nothing warranting the amount of blood covering his arms. A small flashback came to mind. A rat, a dog and a stag. His friends! What had happened to his friends? What if…what if this blood belonged to one of them!

Remus became frantic. He started searching the forest, screaming for his friends, frightening the wildlife away from the area. He was about to start sprinting, when he came across a small clearing. His friends were there. Peter was still in his animagus form, while James slept peacefully under a tree. He watched as Sirius walked over to him, offering his coat. Remus gladly accepted the kind offer.

"Padfoot… What happened last night?" Remus whispered.

"Things just got a little bit… hectic. Nothing we couldn't handle," Sirius grinned.

"I didn't hurt anyone did I?" Remus avoided eye contact.

Sirius dropped the grin and shuffled on the spot.

"No, everyone's fine. Well, we are at least…" Sirius trailed off, looking over to the far end of the clearing.

There in the shadows was a fallen deer, its legs swept under its body. Remus gasped as he saw the huge rip down its middle, the blood seeping through the large gashes. He looked away and down at his hands. The red was daunting against his pale skin. The burden of a predator.

* * *

Under the tree by the Black Lake, Remus could clearly think. He would watch the sun glisten off the smooth water and wait for the giant squid to emerge. His friends weren't the type to sit in silence. They were always moving, always in a hurry. Sometimes Remus just had to take a step back and revaluate everything that had happened to him. Lest he forget anything important.

He would never forget how lucky he was. Lucky that Professor Dumbledore allowed him to attend Hogwarts. Lucky that he managed to make friends who accepted him and his condition. Lucky to have the opportunities he had, when so many other werewolves were destined to a life of misery. He hoped his luck never ran out.

* * *

Love was something Remus had never considered. Why would he? He was a werewolf, someone who was condemned to be alone. So when he was cornered after class, he never even considered any romantic interest.

He was pulled inside an empty classroom and pushed harshly against a desk. At first he thought he was going to be punched. Especially with the rough treatment he was given. Never had he been more wrong.

It started slowly, with soft touches and small strokes. Then the tempo increased. Hands ran down his hair, his face, his chest. Legs pressed tightly against him, trapping him within their confines. Lips to lips, struggling to gain control. A sharp breath inhaled, a low moan. Suddenly the touches stopped, his body was hot and his lips left tingling.

"See you later, Remus," Sirius laughed, promptly exiting the room from his shocked friend.

* * *

Sometimes Remus forgot he was a werewolf. His friends treated him as a normal person. He felt all the love and kindness, those without his condition felt. He would joke and laugh and enjoy his friends' company.

Then it would all collapse back into reality. The prejudice against his kind. The torment, the cruelty. Being jobless and poor. Sometimes Remus forgot he was a werewolf but he would always eventually remember.

* * *

Remus tugged the last of his bags out the door. His apartment was empty, only bare pieces of furniture remained. It had been a month after Voldemort's downfall. A change was in order, there was nothing left for him here anymore. Three good friends' dead and another condemned as their murderer. Harry was left an orphan and he was left alone. He had to leave, to get away from the heartbreak and misery.

Removing his wand from his pocket, he felt ready. With one last glance at his home, he took a deep breath. Apparating to another country wasn't as difficult as he first thought. He had the new beginning he had always wanted. No one knew his condition, no one cared about his past. Being alone was easy. No expectations, no disappointments.

Remus ignored the nagging voice at the back of his mind. He ignored the nights he spent in solitude, crying for his lost friends. Ignored his worthless existence, the dark clouds hovering over his head. Ignorance is bliss; if he didn't think about it, then it wasn't true. Remus was alive but he wasn't living.


	2. Wool of Bat and Tongue of Dog: Sirius

**Wool of Bat and Tongue of Dog: Sirius**

Sirius gently kissed Remus' neck. Leaving a trail of love bites up to his ear. He nibbled softly on the lobe, enjoying the moan he elected from his friend. Slowly he kissed Remus, tangling his hands into the soft brown hair. A sudden pull had Sirius open his eyes. Remus was frowning and facing away. A bright blush adorned his face.

"I can't…" Remus trailed off.

"Why not. You know I love you, right?" Sirius started stroking Remus' hair again.

Remus batted the hand away.

"Stop it! I mean it. We can't do this. I can't do this," Remus yelled.

"Can't… or won't?" Sirius asked.

"You know nothing will ever work out between us. In case you've forgotten, I'm a werewolf. I'm not meant to be loved."

Remus turned around again, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. Sirius scowled.

"That's bullshit and you know it. I don't care if you're a werewolf and you shouldn't either. Being a werewolf isn't holding you back, you're doing fine on your own."

"No… I…" Remus was lost for words at the intensiveness of Sirius' eyes.

"I what? It's the truth. You're just scared that someone actually wants to get close. Well? Am I wrong?" Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Sirius I… You're right. I'm scared. Scared of opening up. Scared of what will happen."

"You're not a seer. You're not expected to know what happens in the future. But doesn't it make it more exciting. To live in the moment…" Sirius looked passionately down at Remus.

Remus became resigned to the fact that Sirius was actually right for once.

"…And preferably with me," Sirius grinned cheekily.

"Oh, go choke on a butterbeer," Remus laughed, pushing Sirius away.

"Don't be a tease. You know that was adorable. Who could resist my charm?"

Remus laughed and took off down the corridor.

"Remus? Remus!" Sirius moaned, running off after him.

* * *

There was a simplistic pleasure of being a dog. Sometimes Sirius wished he could make his animagus form permanent. There were no pressures as a dog, no worries about the future. Only living in the moment and obeying his primitive needs. To eat, sleep, mate and play. He wouldn't have to attend school, he could forget about completing his annoying homework. Never again would he face the disappointed faces from his parents or the disapproving glances from his teachers. Life would be simple. If only reality would throw him a bone…

* * *

The Marauder's Map. The finest creation his friends had ever invented. Pure genius. The amount of time they spent mapping out every inch of the castle and grounds, let alone the hours plotting them down and creating a map able to adapt to Hogwarts changes. It was impressive just thinking about it. He had to hand it to Moony though. Adding the feature of actually viewing each individual's movements, was utterly amazing. He bet if they presented the map to their professors, even they'd be impressed.

It would be a waste not to keep it in constant use. What, with him and his friends graduating soon. Pass it down, keep the history alive… or some other nonsense Moony would say. From one fellow prankster to the next. The school needed something to keep them occupied, once the Marauders had left. Perhaps he could con a few third years into an initiation or maybe even start a prank war for the map. He had to end his final year, knowing his legacy lived on.

* * *

He would have been lying to you, if Sirius said he was glad his brother was dead. If there was one thing he was not, it was heartless. They were brothers, even if that meant very little to Regulus. He was supposed to be the older sibling, the role model, the protector, the teammate. Yes, they didn't get along at the best of times but he still cared for him. He couldn't help but feel proud of his younger brother's accomplishments, even if he still resented him for them. Regulus was everything his family wanted and everything he could never achieve.

* * *

Happy memories. We hold them so close to our bodies. Wrapping them tightly, tucking them away for another day. Only to be brought out dusty and worn; examined when we almost forgot about them. But the memory of something painful is just the opposite. It's persistent, forever at the forefront of your mind. Reminding you of your mistakes, refusing to leave you alone. It keeps pinching and nagging and bothering you, until you cannot think about anything else.

Sirius wanted so badly to forget. To tear at his head and physically remove those memories. Over and over they would replay. His worst moments in life, branded to the inside of his head. The mistakes, the regrets, the missed opportunities. He begged for the sweet release of death, to end his pitiful life. The dementors were not that kind.


End file.
